


Baby Makin' Music

by purple_charlie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is a cheese ball, F/M, Food Trucks, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_charlie/pseuds/purple_charlie
Summary: Dean is a cheesy romantic who wants to dance with his girl no matter who's watching or where they are.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester & You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Baby Makin' Music

**Author's Note:**

> I was waiting outside of a deli for a sandwich and some car was *bumpin* Al Green. Because the Winchesters live in my head lately, this popped up and I immediately started typing on my phone.
> 
> Have some cheesy Dean.

“Dance with me.” 

I look up from my phone to find Dean holding out a hand, cheeks pink under his freckles. The oozing sax of a slow R&B song registers in my ears. We’re standing in the middle of some strip mall at sunset, stopped for dinner on the way home from a salt and burn, waiting for the guys in the food truck to call our number, Sam having wandered off after ordering to stretch his legs. The speakers on the side of the truck have been pumping out 70’s R&B the whole time, and now Dean is holding out his big hand with a goofy little twinkle in his eye. 

“What?”

“Cmon, sweetheart, dance with me.” He murmurs, slipping his fingers around my hand. He tugs me up, plucking the phone out of my hand and dropping it into his pocket, tucking me into his chest. 

“We’re in the middle of the street.” I hiss, clutching Dean’s fingers where he’s got my hand tucked under his collarbone. He just shrugs, draping my other hand over his shoulder as he starts to sway.

“C’mon, darlin’, we burned the ghostie, we got some grub comin’ up, and who’s gonna care?” He gestures with his chin at the few scattered people also waiting for their food. “Guarantee this parking lot has seen a whole lot weirder than a dude dancin’ with a pretty lady to some baby makin’ music.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, hand slipping down my spine to rest on the swell of my ass. 

“Hey now.” I chide him, reaching behind myself to pull his hand to the small of my back. “I’ll dance with you, but no grab ass in front of the civilians.” 

Dean literally  _ whines  _ and pouts his plush bottom lip out at me before tucking his face into my neck. I twine my arms over his shoulders and give in, letting him rock us side to side in the fading light. His chest rumbles as he starts to hum along, hands as low on my back as they can get. I let myself settle into Dean’s rhythm, dropping my hips a little bit and nudging one foot between his. Dean’s smile spreads out against my neck right before he takes my hand again and lifts his arm, leading me in a little twirl. I can’t resist the little giggle that escapes me, heat rushing to my cheeks. Dean is just grinning like a fool, green eyes sparkling in the buzzing streetlights. 

“Hold tight.” He murmurs, locking one arm around my waist before dipping me so low my hair touches the ground. There’s a small smattering of applause and even a whistle from the other folks gathered around waiting for food, and I hide my burning cheeks in Dean’s shoulder as he pulls me to my feet. When I peek out, Sam has returned from wherever he got off to, standing off to the side and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Order 24, Fred and Ginger!” 

Dean pecks my cheek before he swaggers over to grab the food, Sam stepping over to stand with me. He knocks his elbow against my shoulder, waggling his eyebrows just like his brother.

“You two have fun while I was gone?”

“Shaddup Sasquatch.”

~~~

Once we’ve finished our roadside dinner and are back in the Impala, winding our way down the endless highway back to the Bunker, my phone pings. It’s a text from Sam, with a photo attachment. I glance up at his profile in the front seat of the car, but he’s staring out the window, chin in one big hand.

The photo takes a moment to load with the terrible middle-of-nowhere reception, but when it does, my heart tap dances in my chest.

It’s a picture of Dean dipping me, a grin on his face bright enough to rival the sunset in the background. It’s framed so it’s just us and the food truck, none of the other folks who had been waiting in that parking lot. 

_Thanks, Sasquatch_ ❤️️


End file.
